


Thy Domain, and Primal Strength

by stormwreath



Series: Hiywan's Story [5]
Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer, Buffy the Vampire Slayer (Comic)
Genre: Gen, Prehistoric, Time Travel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-05-18
Updated: 2011-05-21
Packaged: 2017-11-01 01:57:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 21,524
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/350704
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stormwreath/pseuds/stormwreath
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's East Africa, eight thousand years ago. Hiywan of the Five Trees Clan is out hunting antelope to feed her people, when there's a weird pop, a flash of light... and a short, white-skinned blond-haired woman in jeans and t-shirt is standing there looking rather bewildered. That's what happened in the predecessor to this story, Last To Ancient First. In this sequel, we pick up the story as Hiywan and Buffy arrive back at the Five Trees campsite.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

It was still only the early afternoon by the time we got home. I'm never usually this quick when I'm carrying prey, but with Buffy's help we made light work of it. In fact, I'm pretty sure she could have carried the antelope all the way back to camp herself, but I didn't want to feel useless. So, we rigged my spear as a carrying pole, tied the deer under it, and toted it back together over our shoulders. The silence oppressed me, so I started chatting to my companion, even though I knew she couldn't understand a word I said. Maybe she'd recognise my tone of voice at least. She said a few things back, though I wasn't really sure if she was answering me or talking to herself.  
  
As we made our way through the belt of woodland that surrounded the camp, I could already hear the children playing. Apparently they'd invented a game that required about thirty of them to scream, shout, yell and shriek at the tops of their voices all at once. Constantly. I winced, suddenly longing for the silence I'd just scorned, and remembering why I preferred to stay out hunting until nearer sunset. Usually by that time they'd generally tired themselves out. But Buffy looked surprised, then smiled in chagrin and said something to herself. Before long we'd rounded the last patch of vegetation and the clearing where the camp was laid out stood in front of us.  
  
Sure enough, there were kids rampaging all through the gaps between the shelters and chasing each other to and fro, watched tolerantly by a few of the adults. They were dusty, mostly naked - since there's no point in using up good leather on someone who'll tear or destroy it inside a week - and had enough energy that even I, who'd been a child myself less than three years ago, felt exhausted watching them. Then one of them looked over and saw us approaching, She started to smile at me... then her eyes grew huge as she looked past me at my companion. She whimpered, and then she screamed in terror. Some of the other children looked around at that, saw us, and promptly panicked as well. There was a headlong rush to get away from us, and lots more screaming and crying; and the mothers grabbed up their children or hastened them to safety.  
  
This was not what I'd bargained for.  
  
I looked over at Buffy, and saw a stunned look on her face. She also seemed near to tears, hurt and bewildered by the reaction to her appearance; and in that moment I made up my mind that she wasn't any threat to our clan. Not if that's how she felt at the idea that our children were scared of her.  
  
But I only had a moment for that reflection, because a crowd of the men was quickly gathering to react to the threat, carrying whatever weapons they could grab. I dropped my spear - with the antelope still tied to it - and spread my arms wide. I didn't want this to turn ugly.  
  
"What's going on?"  
  
"What is that thing?"  
  
"Hiywan, what's happened? Are you hurt?"  
  
"Is it dangerous?"  
  
They gathered around us in a semicircle, spears ready, but made no move to get too close. I did my best to reassure them, but I'm afraid my voice cracked a little with nerves.  
  
"It's all right. S-she's a person, she's w-with me. Her name's Buffy."  
  
I looked over at her, and our eyes met as she gazed directly back at me. Gone was any trace of her recent misery; now she was all taut alertness and determination. But she remained still, poised; I got the impression she was waiting for me to take the lead. I gulped.  
  
"I-I'm taking her to Grandmother Heran. This is Guardian business."  
  
"You want to let this thing-"  
  
"She's a person!" I snapped back, forgetting my nervousness in my indignation. The speaker - it was Fedaku - backed down.  
  
"Sorry. You want to bring _her_ into our camp? Can you stand guarantee for her? Is she even human?"  
  
"Yes! I - uh..." Honesty was always one of my problems. "I, uh, think so anyway. I'm not sure." I rallied, sensing the moment was slipping away. "That's why I need to take her to Grandmother!"

"It's the chieftain's business, letting strangers into the camp."  
  
A new voice broke into the conversation, deep and stern. "Yes, I believe it is. Hiywan, what exactly do you think you're playing at here?"  
  
I flinched. Belaye had come up behind the crowd of men, and they parted before him to let him through. He marched right up to me, planting his feet wide apart and his hands on his hips, and scowled down at me. "Explain yourself!"  
  
I looked up at him and tried my best not to feel intimidated. It wasn't easy.  
  
"I m-met her out hunting. She's a Guardian, like me, b-but from a far distant clan." (I was guessing that part, but given her bizarre appearance, clothing and language, it seemed a likely assumption.) "Y-you have to grant her shelter, by our law..."  
  
"I 'have to' do nothing of the sort, especially not just to suit your whim. Is she a threat to us? Why shouldn't we just kill her here and now?"  
  
"I, uh, don't think that's a good idea." I'd seen the casual strength she used to snap off a branch as thick as my wrist, or to run down and kill a fleeing antelope. I could see right now her deceptive stillness as she stood waiting, surrounded by a dozen armed men. She didn't seem to feel threatened by them one bit. If anything, it seemed like I should be afraid for the men. I took a deep breath, tried to emulate her attitude.  
  
"I claim shelter and fire-right for her, in the name of Teferi the Feared One. N-not even you can deny that, chieftain."   
  
He looked like he was going to anyway... but then Buffy herself chose that moment to act at last. She turned, picked up the antelope's body by the scruff of its neck - in one hand - and held it up, saying something challenging in her own language. She pointed to herself, at me, then at the antelope, then mimed stabbing it. Taking her cue - and starting to realise her intention - I hastily translated.  
  
"It's true. She killed it herself. Um, with my help but she landed the final blow. It's her kill."  
  
There was a mutter of surprise and speculation. Then Buffy stalked forward, laid the carcass at Belaye's feet, and stepped back. She pointed to it, then to him, then a circling gesture indicating everyone, and made an open-hand pushing forward gesture. Take it, it's yours. Then she stepped back, folded her arms across her chest and stared at the chieftain levelly.  
  
I felt like jumping in the air and yelling in triumph. I don't know if she knew our laws after all or it was just a lucky guess; but she'd given him a gift that he had to reciprocate. She'd proven she could help support the clan; and that entitled her to clan-right, not just shelter and fire.  
  
Belaye recognised it too, although he didn't have to like it. But he said the words graciously enough. Then there was an awkward silence, until I said Buffy's name and when she looked at me, repeated it while pointing to her, indicating my mouth, and then to the chieftain. It took another repetition and gesture before she got it, but then she formally told him her name, and added some other things in her own language. That word 'Slayer' was among them. Belaye ended the ritual by turning to the others gathered around and repeating her name and the formula "So long as she dwells among us in peace, she is our clan-sister."   There was a mutter of assent.  
  
Belaye looked at me then. "You'll take responsibility for our new guest." It wasn't a question. Then he shook his head and gave a long-suffering sigh. He looked around, saw Assefe and beckoned him over. "Take Buffy's kill to the butchering ground."  
  
Assefe pouted - nobody liked going there, it can smell worse than the latrine at midday when animals are being prepared. But he picked up the antelope dutifully. I was secretly pleased to see him struggle under the weight, though he tried to hide it. As he left, Belaye turned majestically and made his way back towards the heart of the campsite. The rest of the crowd dispersed after him, turning many backward glances our way and muttering to each other.  
  
I breathed a huge sigh of relief, my knees feeling suddenly wobbly beneath me. To my surprise Buffy put her hand on my shoulder and squeezed, saying something that sounded encouraging. I smiled at her gratefully.  
  
"Come on, clan-sister. Let's go find Grandmother. See if she knows what to do with you."


	2. Chapter 2

We made our way across the campsite, which was full of people since the women had already returned from their day's gathering, and the men wouldn't leave on their next big hunting expedition for another couple of days. The mood seemed oddly subdued. Normally I'd expect at least a dozen people to greet me: ask how my hunting went, make a joke, ask my advice, offer to have sex with me, whatever. But now they seemed to be avoiding us; though I could sense dozens of pairs of eyes watching us as we threaded our way through the huts.

I couldn't really blame them; it had been months since the last strangers were seen in the camp, and none of them had had such a bizarre appearance as Buffy. Still, it made me uncomfortable; she was our guest, officially welcomed and given clan-right, and they shouldn't treat her like a... a nightwalker or something. But she didn't seem to notice the stares - or maybe she was just better than me at feigning indifference to them - and instead she was gazing around in open fascination.

I wondered what she was looking at; it all seemed perfectly familiar to me. But she came from far away; maybe her people's camps looked different to ours? Maybe they lived in caves all the time, instead of just once or twice a year like we did. That might be why she was so pale. Or - I tried to imagine the most exotic thing I could - perhaps they made shelters of animal skins stretched on poles, or out of that peculiar material her clothes were made from? It was frustrating not being able to talk to her; I had so many questions I wanted to ask!

I ducked to avoid an awning someone had stretched between two of the trees that grew between the huts. We'd only been at this site a week or so, but already it was beginning to look like home again. It was about three years since we'd last been here, and the jungle was always quick to reclaim its own as soon as we left, and had to be fought back when we moved back in. We'd cleared out one of the huts straight away to sleep in, of course. It was horribly cramped, but better than nothing. Some of the men were supposed to be clearing out a second shelter; I was looking forward to it because I hate sleeping in a heap; there's always someone elbowing you in the side or snoring right in your ear, and another shelter would give us room to spread out. But annoyingly enough, as we walked past I saw the whole bunch of them relaxing on the floor of the shelter-pit, enjoying the shade with the building totally unfinished. It didn't have a roof or anything!

I couldn't help myself; I stood on the edge of the shelter and stared down at them witheringly, making a sarcastic comment pitying them for being so exhausted, since they'd obviously worked so hard all day. They didn't react with any particular guilt, more's the pity - though I didn't really expect them to. One of them did invite me to come and help them dig out the pit and rebuild the walls, if it was so important to me.

I grinned. "No way! Digging is men's work, you know that."

"So's hunting, but you seem happy enough to do it."

"Of course! Hunting takes skill. Digging only needs brute force and ignorance."

"Why-- come here and I'll show you some brute force!"

He pretended to lunge to his feet. I giggled and feigned panic, backing away hastily. Of course the idea that he would really attack me didn't even cross my mind; such things were unheard of within the clan, although strangers were more of a risk. That made me think of Buffy again, and I wondered what she made of the banter. I worried suddenly that she might take it seriously; she couldn't understand our words so maybe it looked worse than it really was? But when I turned back to her, she didn't look alarmed or anything.

Well actually, she did look kind of impatient and maybe a little exasperated. Oops. We'd better get to Grandmother quickly.

I did stop off once more, in fact, to put down my spear. It wasn't the sort of thing you were supposed to carry around the campsite, after all - but I didn't like leaving it just anywhere. So I took us around to the old shelter where we were storing our things - it had some hides stretched over the top to protect it from the sun, but no proper roof, and various bundles and packages were stacked up neatly on the floor. My own leather bag, the one I use to carry my stuff when we trek from one campsite to the next, was there; and I wrapped the strap around the shaft of my spear before propping it carefully against the wall. Not that anyone would deliberately take it, of course, but I didn't like the idea of someone going off with it even accidentally instead of their own spear. Then I scrambled up out of the waist-deep pit and led the way onwards.

We reached the central clearing where the campfire is set, and lots of people were bustling around preparing the evening meal. One of them directed me to a tall tree overlooking the stream, and there in its shade I found Grandmother Heran at last.

Only problem was, she was fast asleep, stretched out comfortably on the grass. I hesitated, looked doubtfully at Buffy. Should I wake her? I said her name hesitantly, then again a little louder. No response.

I just knew my new companion was getting impatient. I knelt down, then cautiously reached out my hand to shake Heran's shoulder.

Before I could even touch her, her own hand shot out like a snake. She gripped my wrist tightly, far more strength in her hand than its fragile appearance would suggest. Her eyes snapped open.

"Try to wake an old lady, would you? Shame on you."

"Uh, how did you know I was there, Grandmother?"

"How? I heard you clomping over the ground like a herd of elephants."

I thought about this. "But if you heard me coming, that means you were already awake, doesn't it?"

She barked out a sharp laugh. "You know, there's such a thing as being too clever for your own good, girl."

I grinned, settled myself into a more comfortable cross-legged position. "Grandmother, I've brought someone to meet you. She's, uh--- well, see for yourself."

Heran quirked an eyebrow, then looked behind me to where Buffy was standing and watching us. Her eyes widened a little, but that was the only sign of surprise she gave. She beckoned our guest to sit down beside her, then asked me to help her into a more upright position.

"Well then. Who are you? Or should I say, what are you?"

Buffy made an unintelligible reply, and I added helpfully, "She doesn't speak our language."

"I can see that, thank you Hiywan. Have you tried speaking to her in the Five Demon Tongues?"

"Um, I don't.. I mean, I can't..."

"Off gallivanting chasing antelopes - or chasing men, more likely - instead of attending to your lessons? You'll never be a proper Guardian if you don't learn the lore."

"Yes, Grandmother. Sorry, Grandmother."

"Hmph. Very well. " She turned to Buffy, and then out of her mouth came a sequence of clicks, grunts and growls that I couldn't make head nor tail of. Buffy looked as blank as me, and then Grandmother said something else, which sounded different but equally bizarre. No response.

Then on the fourth attempt Buffy's eyes lit up and she practically bounced in the air with delight... then just as quickly deflated like a bladder that's been hit by a flint. She said something to Grandmother that sounded, to my ears, very much like what Heran had asked her: the same kind of muffled growly noises. Grandmother looked puzzled, even a little annoyed, and said something back to her challengingly. Buffy spread her arms helplessly, repeating the same phrase as before. Then she added some more words, and to my utter surprise Grandmother burst out laughing. Even Buffy chuckled too, rather ruefully, but Grandmother was practically rolling on the ground.

I felt annoyed at being left out, and demanded to know what they'd said. Eventually Grandmother got herself under control with a muttered, "The poor girl. I wonder who taught her that?" Then she pulled herself up again and spoke to me.

"I asked her if she spoke the tongue of the Fyarl demons. She replied to me in perfect, fluent Fyarl - but what she said was, 'I'm sorry, I don't speak Fyarl.'"

"What? That doesn't make sense."

"Then she said a few more things. In fact, she said, 'Is there anything to drink in this place?' and then 'Do you have a more attractive sister?' and finally 'Go away or I'll pull your head off.'"

I stared in astonishment, then burst out laughing myself. Buffy's face did that thing where it turned bright red again. Grandmother shook her head.

"I think whoever taught her those phrases had a bizarre sense of humour. Or a very straightforward set of priorities. I wonder if she even knows what she was saying to me, or what she thought the words meant?"

I cocked my head, considering. Buffy didn't seem like the sort of person to be fooled so easily, and certainly that last phrase would come in handy. But more important was my triumphant realisation:

"But she understood you! She can talk properly after all, like a person! We just have to find out what language she does speak. Can you cast a spell? Or summon a spirit?"

She thought for a moment, then said, "No." I blinked, then looked despondent. (Or possibly rebellious. Other people tell me I often look that way.)

Heran sighed. "Why is it so important to you to speak with her? I think you'd better tell me the full story."

And so I did, with special emphasis on the way Buffy appeared out of thin air, and her knowledge of Guardian secrets like the sign of Tsehay, and above all the fact that she appeared to be as strong and fast as someone under the Great Possession - or possibly even stronger - but was fully in control of herself and acting completely naturally. Well, as natural as a weird pink-skinned, yellow-haired and incomprehensibly-babbling woman, dressed in unearthly shades of red and blue could act, at least.

When I'd finished Heran looked thoughtful for a long moment, then sighed. "It does sound important. Well, I can't help her myself, but I expect Senayit can. We'll need to contact her. Help me up."

I supported her as she rose to her feet, hiding my concern as she did. Grandmother had been exactly the same all my life - from what Mother said, she'd been old even when Mother was a girl - but recently she seemed to be slowing down a little, and needing a little more help even with day-to-day activities. She hid it well - I was the only person she allowed to assist her - but still it frightened me. Death was something we all lived with, of course, but usually it came quickly, in screams and blood, or coughing or the pains of hunger. The idea that a person could just gradually slow down, wither away, come to a stop - it seemed unnatural. The world shouldn't work that way - I didn't want it to. I--

Grandmother's grip on my elbow shocked me out of my spiral of worry.

"Stop flower-gathering, girl. Go and fetch a bowl of water from the stream. I'll ask Ariam if we can use the Fire Hut."

She made her way off determinedly, seemingly as energetic as ever. Buffy watched her go, uncertain whether to follow, but I beckoned her to come with me down to the stream.

All our campsites are built next to water, of course. The stream - it was actually more of a small river, although not big enough to be home to crocodiles, thankfully - provided fresh water to drink, cook with, and clean. The banks were also soft with clay, which we could make into pots. That was a job often given to children to keep them busy; they enjoyed playing around with the squishy clay, and if the bowls and dishes they produced were often lumpy and misshappen, it didn't really matter. It wasn't as if they'd be used many times before they broke and got thrown away anyway, and we always needed more.

There were a few kids splashing around at the edge of the stream when I got there, under the omnipresent eyes of a parent. My sister was among them, and I was pleased to see that when the other children shrank back in fear at the sight of Buffy, she stood her ground bravely.

"Hello, Haset. What are you doing?"

She looked down, too shy to speak. Her hand clutched tightly around the doll Aunt Samwarit had made for her. It was a simple thing, two pieces of wood tied together crosswise with a grass-stuffed leather ball for a head; but recently Nataye had painted a face on the front of it, with eyes and a mouth and a nose and everything, and since then Haset had hardly put it down for a moment.

"Have you been giving Desta a bath?"

Desta was the doll. Haset giggled, and then found her voice to scold me.

"Silly! Desta doesn't like water. You know it makes her head soggy."

"Oh! Well, nobody wants a soggy head. You'd better come out of there."

She hesitated, but then splashed out of the stream towards us. Her eyes were huge as she looked up at Buffy, but at least she wasn't running away. I seized the moment.

"Haset, this is Buffy. She's our new friend. Say hello to her."

More shyness. Buffy looked a little nervous too, like she wasn't used to dealing with small children, as incredible as that sounds. Coaxing Haset to speak wasn't working, so I took another approach.

"Well, what about Desta? She can say hello to Buffy. She's brave."

"I'm brave too!" said my sister indignantly. Then she turned to my companion and piped up, "Hello, Buffy!"

"Uh, hello, Haset."

I was so delighted at getting Haset to speak to Buffy that it took a moment to realise that the newcomer had answered in our own language! Well okay, so she only knew the word "hello" so far, but it was a start! I grinned at her in triumph. Buffy smiled back, shrugging her shoulders as she did and saying something else. I didn't understand it, of course, but I choose to believe she said, "Hey, it's a start!"

But we had a job to do. I asked Haset to show us the pots they'd made today. She took us over to the rock where they were laid out in the sun to dry and harden and proudly pointed out the two she'd made herself. Unfortunately they were too small for my purposes, but I assured her we'd use them for dinner - but now I needed a big dish for Grandmother Heran. She immediately toddled off to grab the biggest pot there for me, and I hastily retrieved it from her before she could break it. The larger vessels are usually also the most fragile.

Then I filled it with water from the stream and turned to carry it carefully back to the camp. Buffy followed me, and Haset skipped along beside us babbling to herself. I was amused when I realised she was actually telling her doll not to be afraid of Buffy, that Buffy was a friend even though she looked all funny. Then she came up next to Buffy and slipped her small hand into the other woman's own. Buffy looked startled - in fact for a moment, I'd even swear she was terrified - but then she smiled and slowed her pace to match Haset's smaller strides, and together the three of us got back to the centre of the camp. I hadn't spilt a drop.

Mekde was waiting outside the Fire Hut. She's Ariam's daughter, and almost as bossy as her mother. Everyone says she'll be headwoman herself one day, but Ariam's strict with her and makes sure she works hard. Looking after the Fire Hut is her special responsibility; the hearth inside it is the spiritual heart of the clan, and it must never be allowed to grow cold. Nobody is allowed inside it, either, unless they have the headwoman's permission. But Mekde scowled at me, then jerked her head backwards.

"Go in. Mother says you can. Grandmother's already in there."

I hesitated, looking around at Buffy.

"Yes, her too. Make sure she doesn't touch anything she shouldn't."

"Um, all right." I bit back anything else I might have added; getting into an argument with Mekde could spoil your whole day. Instead I knelt down carefully, trying not to spill any water, and laid the bowl down. Rather to my surprise Mekde helpfully pulled aside the leather curtain that covered the entrance and held it open for me. Wisps of smoke filtered through and into the daylight. After pausing to urge Haset to run off and play - and not get into trouble - I crawled through the narrow opening and down to the floor. Then I turned around to take the bowl, beckoning to Buffy to follow.

The room inside was small and dark, barely large enough for the three of us to sit around the firepit in the centre of the floor. The smoke made my eyes water, and I heard Buffy go into a fit of coughing as she followed me in. Then she gasped and rocked back as she saw the mask of Tsehay hanging on the wall behind the fire. As the leather curtain fell back the only light in the room was from the flickering yellow flames, and they made Tsehay's face look looming and ominous and almost alive. This was his sacred place. Unlike the other huts and shelters, green leaves or branches were never used to construct the Fire Hut's roof; only the hides of animals killed by the clan's warriors in Tsehay's name. His power entered into the leather, turning it almost as dark as human skin but also filling it with a little of his warmth, so when the rainy season came the leather retained its soft and supple nature instead of turning stiff and dead. At that time we stripped the roof, with many prayers of thanks, and replaced it with new hides while we made clothing from the old.

Heran was absent-mindedly tending the fire with small twigs from the pile in the corner, until I tried to put the bowl in front of her. She shook her head firmly. "No. You do it; it's a skill you need to master."

"Err, all right." I swallowed nervously, then took a deep breath. "Do you have the abeba petals?"

She took a small pouch from inside her wrap and silently passed it to me. I untied the thong that secured it, tipped out a small amount of the scrunchy brown dust inside into the palm of my hand, then passed her back the bag. She watched me intently, but silently, as I made sure I remembered the words of the ritual correctly.

Then I sprinkled the powder onto the surface of the water and chanted the spell. Nothing happened for a moment and I was sure I'd got it wrong; but then the dust started to spread itself in a spiral pattern and steam rose. I said the second part of the ritual, and invoked the name of Senayit of the Shining Moonlight clan. The water started to glow from within - bright enough that as I glanced up I could clearly see Buffy watching me intently, both surprised and expectant.

Then the light faded a little, and I saw the face of a motherly-looking woman gazing out at me. I recognised her; I'd spent six months with the Shining Moonlight clan last year as part of my training. I'd never have the talent for magic that she had - a few rote-learned spells were about my limit - but she'd taught me what she could with far more patience than Kelile, who'd instructed me in fighting skills. Kelile had never ceased criticising me for my laziness, lack of grace and insufficient application to hard work - which, since by the end of her training I could even beat Haymanot in four fights out of five, I thought was most unfair.

But I was letting myself get distracted. I gave Senayit the traditional greeting, and felt her words form in my head as she replied. Most Guardians talk normally when we far-speak each other, but Senayit prefers to use mindspeech when other people contact her. As she explained it to me one day with a laugh, a Guardian who seems to fall into a trance in the middle of her work will merely be thought to be attuning herself to the higher powers, but one who starts talking to invisible friends will be judged insane.

I started to explain what we needed, then Grandmother took over and began discussing technical details of spells and spirit bargains with Senayit. After that, Senayit asked to see Buffy for herself, and so we all squeezed around and Buffy peered over my shoulder into the bowl. If she was surprised to see the tiny image of the other woman there - a woman who was more than six weeks' walk away from us, but able to talk as if she were in the same room - she gave no sign of it.

But then Buffy's whole body went rigid, and I could feel her heart pounding in her chest as she leaned forward against me to get closer to the water. Senayit gasped, her eyes went wide, then she flung up her hand and turned away in haste. Buffy sank back, breathing heavily.

"What happened? Senayit, what did you hear?"

"She's... Great Spirit, what is she? What have you brought among us?"

"Is she dangerous?" snapped out Grandmother, in her most decisive voice.

"No... yes.. I don't..." Senayit covered her face with her hands. "She's deadly dangerous. But I don't think she means us harm. She's just - I don't know *what* she is. Qasafi's power lies heavy on her, stronger than I've ever felt it from anyone. Even in you, Hiywan. She's a sister to us, I have no doubt of that. But the Feared One lies coiled around her heart like a vine, even now, even as she sits there so calmly. I don't understand it. It frightens me. She frightens me."

"What should we do?" demanded Grandmother, but at the same time I said, "What does she need?"

Senayit breathed deeply. "I don't... I was only able to touch her mind for a moment. She needs something; she needs our help. Not for her alone; I think she's here to save something greater than herself. Perhaps the world itself. And... she wants to atone?" She shook her head. "I'm not sure. It was all so fast. But she's definitely come here for something, and..." she squinted at me, "I got the definite impression it's connected with you somehow, Hiywan. I don't think it's an accident that she appeared right next to you."

Well, that was reassuring, in the sense that it wasn't reassuring one little bit. "Are you sure you can't speak to her again, find out more?"

"Absolutely not. Not mind-to-mind. There's a danger there; like quicksand, sucking you in and never letting you free again. I can't risk it. But normal human speech, with lips and tongue; that would be safe enough. Then we can talk to her."

"You can do that? You can teach her our language?"

"Something like that. I can call a spirit that will listen to your words and whisper them in her ear in a tongue she can understand, then take her words and change them into our own speech. You'll be able to talk then."

"Thank you! That's so helpful. Can you do it now?"

She chuckled ruefully. "Hiywan, sister, I'm in no shape to cast magic right now. My hands are still shaking! And I'll need time to collect the right ingredients, and summon the spirits to hear my words. Tonight, under the light of the moon, as befits our clan totem. I'll cast the spell then. When she wakes tomorrow morning, you'll understand her words."

"But--" Grandmother poked me sharply in the ribs. "Uh - thank you, sister. Tomorrow will be great. Thank you."

Senayit smiled - I'm pretty sure she guessed what Heran just did to me - and then bade me farewell. The light in the bowl faded slowly, and once more the room was lit only by pale yellow firelight. Buffy's face seemed to loom out of the darkness like the opposite of a shadow.

"So, that's it. Tomorrow. We have to wait until tomorrow. It's not even anywhere close to sunset yet! Almost a whole day..."

"Half a day," said Heran reprovingly, "And you'll be asleep for most of it. Learn some patience, girl. Our sister Senayit knows that casting magic without proper rest and preparation is something only fools would try. You're not a fool; don't act like one."

"Yes, Grandmother." I sighed dramatically, but she'd turned back to the fire and was putting more twigs on it. I'm sure she was ignoring me deliberately.

So with nothing else to do I crawled back out through the doorway and blinked dazedly at the sudden sunlight. Buffy followed me out and looked at me expectantly, asking me something. I shook my head: how to explain?

I stood in front of her, touched my lips, then reached out towards the side of her head. She dodged away automatically, making me sigh and roll my eyes then repeat the gesture. This time she stood still, with a faint air of "Let's humour the crazy woman" about her, and so I was able to touch her ear. Then I touched my finger to her lips, and pressed it against my own ear in turn. Buffy suddenly stared at me intently, as I waved my hands in a complex pattern then flung them apart, then touched my ear and mouth again and smiled. She nodded eagerly, clearly understanding my meaning (I hoped) and asking an urgent question which I assume was "When?" (or possibly, "How?).

At this I grimaced - not bothering to hide my own frustration. I pointed up in the sky and made a circle over my head with my thumb and forefinger. As Buffy looked at it, I pointed to the circle, then up at the sun, then moved my hand in a semicircular arc down to the ground. Then I mimed the same circle rising up from the opposite direction in a matching arc, until it was over my head again. She frowned for a moment, then said something to me in a questioning tone. She sounded not exactly happy about it - matching my own mood - but then she repeated the word in a much more resigned tone of voice. She shrugged, and gave a rueful smile, and said something rather longer to me. I caught my own name in there, but not, of course, the rest of her meaning. I got the gist, though: 

Nothing to do about it, so let's make the best of things...


	3. Chapter 3

So what could we do? I looked around, considering.

The evening meal was still some time away. Normally, I'd go and chat with my friends, see what they'd been up to today: but it seemed rude to do that with Buffy there. She'd be completely left out, not understanding what we said. I couldn't just leave her. Or could I? Maybe she wanted some time to herself?

I sneaked a look at her; she seemed a little restless, peering around the camp in all directions. When she met my eyes I shrugged, then made up my mind and pointed in the direction of the butchery ground, raising my eyebrows and pointing at her. "Do you want to come too?" Maybe it would interest her to help prepare the meat she caught today.

She looked uncertain, tried to ask me something, then just shrugged herself and gestured for me to lead on. So I did. For obvious reasons the butchery ground is a little way outside the camp, downriver beside the stream.

Amare does most of the butchery for the clan. He's good at it, and makes sure none of the animal's hide or bone goes to waste, which is very important. It's an unpleasant job, though, and he get special privileges to make up for it: second choice from any of the meat he prepares, first choice of the skins; and Belaye usually assigns him a couple of assistants from the other men each day to help with the really dirty or difficult tasks. Still, spending the day up to your elbows in animal guts isn't the most attractive occupation, and a lot of the clan tend to avoid him. Which I think is unfair; Amare's a nice guy, he's always very friendly to me - and I have to say, he's quite good-looking too.

The butchery ground is off-limits for women because it's a place of death; but as a Guardian I'm obviously exempt from that taboo. I assumed Buffy would be too, for the same reason. In fact, as a hunter I'm encouraged to go there. While Amare may be our most skilled butcher, every hunter in the clan is still expected to be able to skin, gut, bone and prepare his (or her) own kill if need be: and that does take practice. I've come a long way since my first botched attempt to skin a deer, but more experience is never a bad thing.

When we got there Amare was just finishing de-boning the carcass of a deer hanging from a tree-branch. I was disappointed, thinking he'd already nearly finished; but then I saw the antelope Buffy and I brought in still lying on the ground. Another hunter must have been successful today as well. I paused a while to watch him work - all right, to watch the smooth play of his muscles under his skin as he heaved the heavy carcass around. I _did_ say he was good-looking; and because of the nature of his work, he'd rolled the top of his wrap down to his waist. Yum. Beside me, though,  I noticed Buffy was looking a little uncomfortable. The smell of blood and offal and worse things could be a bit overpowering at first - I remembered with embarrassment the occasion, when I was much younger, when I actually threw up as Fedaku opened the belly of a zebra. But you get used to it quickly enough, and I was sure Buffy would too.

Amare noticed us then, and if he was surprised at Buffy's appearance he gave no sign of it beyond a raised eyebrow. He nodded at me politely.

"Come to watch? Or have you come to make a mess of your own kill again?"

I tried to frown at him, but ended up grinning instead. He's never let me forget that. But instead I introduced Buffy and told him that she, not me, was the one who brought down the antelope. Knowing she was being talked about, she smiled at him awkwardly.

"So, do the two of you want to do this all yourselves? Or should I take off the head and heels for you first?"

"Please". While I could do that at a pinch, Amare was stronger than me and could break the bones in a single blow from his axe; it usually took me several, which risked messing up the hide.  
  
"Fine. And in return you can go fill up the tanning pool."  
  
" _Fill_ it? What do you think I am, a buffalo?" The tanning pool was one of Amare's obsessions; he was always badgering people about it. To be fair, the hides do need to soak for a long while after they're taken off the animal, and the pool does need topping up regularly. We've tried lining it with stones, or with mud, or with large leaves from plantain trees; more importantly, we keep the pool covered over with an old, stiff-as-a-board hide on a frame to stop the sun shining directly down on it.  
  
Buffy came over with me and helped me lift the frame off the pool, then stepped back with a look of disgust on her face as the smell hit her. The shallow but wide hole in the ground was about half-full of scummy brownish-yellow liquid, and I took the stick propped against a nearby tree and prodded the hide that was already laid out in there, lifting it up and turning it over to make sure it was soaked through properly. Bubbles rose to the surface, and Buffy looked like she was going to be sick. I wondered if as well as her superstrength and speed she also had an inhumanly sensitive sense of smell, or something? That would be nasty.  
  
But still, I had more important things to worry about just at that moment than my guest's sensibilities. I hitched up the hem of my wrap and straddled one corner of the pool, my feet planted either side of it. But as I did, Buffy made a kind of strangled gasp and hastily turned and walked several steps away from me. Which, okay, it's polite to avert your eyes when someone's peeing, but did she have to be quite so overblown and dramatic about it? I sighed: I could tell she was going to be difficult to have around.  
  
Afterwards I had to physically walk around in front of her to attract her attention again. She still seemed uncomfortable, looking at me, the pool, and the surrounding forest like a trapped animal. I raised my eyebrows enquiringly and gestured - did she need to go too? She gave a tight shake of her head... then her eyes widened and she asked me an incredulous-sounding question in her own language.  
  
I didn't understand, of course. So then she reached out her hand to me, and took a fold of my wrap between her fingers and plucked at it. Then she pointed at the tanning pool and raised her eyebrows. Pointed at my wrap again, pointed at the pool, mimed dropping something in then taking it out and shaking it dry. I nodded: yes, of course that's where we get leather from. Where else? But Buffy still didn't seem sure, because she was fiddling with her own clothing, then tugged at something around her waist and called my attention to it. I peered more closely - to my surprise it was just a belt, like we use to fasten our wraps in place. Although I've never seen an animal with skin that particular colour.  
  
She pointed to her belt, then at the pool again. I shrugged then nodded: if that really was leather and not some strange enchanted material, then presumably it came out of a tanning pool as well. Buffy cringed and kind of shrank inside her skin - I almost laughed aloud at her expression, which would have been rude of me. But then she seemed to realise something odd - something that made her clap her hand over her mouth and make a noise that sounded like a strangled laugh of her own.  
  
She ran her hands over her thighs - which, like I said before, were covered in some weird type of skin-tight blue stuff - and said something to herself. Then she spoke aloud - not to me, I'm pretty sure, but addressing someone who wasn't there, and her tone of voice was exactly like I'd use to tease someone. Presumably a friend of hers who also didn't know how leather is made, I guessed. I gave her a half-smile; the sort you give when you know something's supposed to be funny but don't understand why; and she grinned back at me, her eyes dancing with humour.  
  
Then her smile faded, and she gave a kind of half-sigh and shook her head ruefully. Next thing I knew, she was walking over to the tanning pool after all - and gesturing emphatically for me to turn my back and move far, far away from her. More drama; but I did as she asked, and walked over to help Amare with the antelope.  
  
He'd finished taking off the head and hooves, and called over Teshome to take the waste to the midden. The head he kept, of course; we'd need that later. So next, the two of us lifted the deer up and suspended it from one of the limbs of the big tree that stands at the head of the butchering ground. Amare held the carcass up in place as I tied its legs to the branch with leather thongs. He needed a lot of strength to do that; and I had to get really close to him to secure the legs, and I started to feel a heat inside me that had nothing to do with the sun or the work we were doing.  
  
Looking for some distraction, I glanced around, and happened to look over in Buffy's direction. And, well... I decided that her weird-looking clothing was also extremely impractical. I don't know why she bothered with it. Instead of just lifting the hem of her clothes she had to practically peel her leg-wraps down off her like she was skinning an animal, and contort herself into a really awkward looking position, and it seemed to be taking forever. And I _know_ it was rude to watch, and I really shouldn't have been looking; but she had her back to us so she wouldn't know... and that was how I discovered that her bottom really was the same colour as her hands and face. Paler, even. It was fascinating.  
  
At this point I realised that beside me, Amare was watching her too. At that, my guilt at peeping on her transformed itself into righteous anger at him, which was much easier to deal with. I jabbed him in the ribs and whispered fiercely, "You shouldn't be looking!"  
  
"Why not?" His own whisper back to me sounded amused. "You are."  
  
"I'm a woman, like her! And you're not!" As I said it I nudged him again, leaning into it. It was meant to be pointed, but as I did it seemed to turn into something rather different, and much more exciting. He wasn't moving away from me at all, either.  
  
"Aren't I allowed to be curious?"  
  
"No!" On a whim I "accidentally" brushed my hand across the front of his wrap, and discovered something very interesting indeed. "And it's not curiosity that you're feeling right now."  
  
His reply was low and kind of breathless, "And what do you think it is that _you're_ feeling right now?"  
  
I giggled. "I don't know, but I'd like to find out."  
  
I flattened myself against the firmness of his body, looking up at him, and he leaned down and our lips met, hard and sudden, and I felt my heart pounding. And then I judged my moment and planted my hand on his chest and pushed hard, and despite the fact that he was bigger and heavier than me I'd caught the balance just right. He staggered backwards, flailing his arms wildly, and his back hit the trunk of the tree with a force that drew an "oof" out of him. Before he could get his breath back I pounced, hooking my arm up around his neck and drawing him down into another passionate kiss as my other hand slid down his bare torso, over his wrap, around his thigh and then back up under it.  
  
Really, our style of clothing was much more convenient than Buffy's.  
  
He might have been aroused already, but I was delighted to see that with my attention he was getting even more excited, and hotter, and harder, and bigger, and... I giggled again, hoarsely, but by now Amare was only capable of gasps and rapid, ragged breathing. Somehow the front of my wrap had come open - I'm not sure if it was him or me who did that, and he was somehow cupping my breast and squeezing my nipple at the same time with the same hand, which felt delicious, but he was too far gone now for anything more elaborate, and I could feel his breathing and sense the rapid drumbeat of his heart, and feel his skin grow taut under my hand, and I stepped to one side just moments before he threw his head back and groaned loudly, and I didn't get splashed at all, which I was really pleased about. I mean, it's only breaking the taboo if it gets inside me, but better to be safe than sorry, right?  
  
After he got his breath back and opened his eyes again, Amare smiled at me, but then he did something surprising. He said the prayer to Serkalem the Ever-Living. Men are supposed to say that every time, actually, if they let their seed fall onto Mother Earth instead of, you know, their wives; but most of them don't bother, or just mumble a hasty word or two. I thought it was adorable for him to say it in full... and even better when he looked me in the eyes and added, "And thank you too, Hiywan." And then even better, he said, "I think it's your turn now", and his hands started stroking me in interesting places.  
  
And of course at that point I remembered I was supposed to be looking after our visitor. I'd forgotten all about her. Guiltily, I looked round - Buffy was fully dressed again, and standing a really long way away with her back to us, but I was still convinced her back was radiating embarrassment and awkwardness. Oops.  
  
Reluctantly, I pushed Amare's hands away. "We can't. I've got to go and get our new clan-sister."  
  
"Well, could you ask her to join in with us?"  
  
Tempted, I thought about it for a moment. I'm not really interested in women that way as a rule, but I must admit I felt a certain amount of intrigued fascination with our visitor - even if it was mostly curiosity rather than pure sexual interest.  
  
But no. I shook my head reluctantly: Buffy seemed so embarrassed about the simplest things, I'm sure she'd be far too uncomfortable to join us in a threesome. At least, not yet; maybe we should ask her later when she'd had time to get used to our ways. I explained this to Amare, who accepted it easily enough.  
  
In fact, he gave me a cheeky grin. "So, it looks like I get to come today and you don't. I win. Nyah nyah."  
  
I stifled a giggle - he sounded just like Haset when she teases me, though I'm not sure he'd appreciate the comparison - and instead opened my eyes wide with mock outrage.  
  
"Don't think you get off so easily. You owe me an orgasm now, and I _will_ collect on the debt."  
  
"Oh yeah?"  
  
"Yes!" I folded my arms across my (still-bare) chest. "In fact, for making me wait, I think you owe me two orgasms. As compensation."  
  
"Such a hardship. Well, I'll see you at campfire tonight; maybe your guest will find herself some company of her own then, so you'll be free."  
  
"Maybe - no! At campfire all the other men will be there. I'll be able to find myself someone more attractive. And less smelly."   
  
As soon as I said it, I cringed at my idiocy. What a stupid thing to say... I was only teasing, but I knew some of the other women had made similar comments before about the men who do butchery, and they meant them. And in fact, Amare did look angry, and my heart sank - then leaped again as I realised it was as much pretend-anger as my own. In fact he raised his hand to smack me, which is pretty much proof he didn't mean anything bad by it. I shrieked and giggled and dodged out of the way, but deliberately dodged too slowly so his hand connected with my rump anyway.  
  
I rubbed myself, and pouted, and said, "For that, it's three orgasms."  
  
"You should be so lucky."  
  
"Ex _actly_." With that, I started walking over towards Buffy, and Amare picked up a bone scraper and went back to work with a chuckle. I had a broad grin on my own face as I made my way across and called to Buffy. She turned - then her face did that thing where it turned bright red, and she looked away again. What? Oh, maybe it was because I still had my wrap undone; that was careless of me. I tucked my breasts back inside and refastened the knot.  
  
She really did seem to get embarrassed at the littlest things. Or maybe it was just more obvious, because of the way her face changed colour so dramatically? Perhaps everybody else got embarrassed so easily too, and it was just me who was different? No, that couldn't be right. I hoped.  
  
Anyway, I told her "Sorry about that", and smiled, hoping my tone of voice would convey the meaning, and beckoned her to follow me back to where the antelope's body was waiting for us. She still seemed uncomfortable, but started to follow - then stopped dead, her feet firmly planted on the ground, a look of horror on her face. She burst out in a babble of incomprehensible words, but the tone was clear enough - a mixture of incredulity and outrage.  
  
I tried to ask her what her problem was, and we spent a frustrating few moments totally failing to understand each other. She kept shaking her head and repeating a very short word which I assumed meant "No" in her language (I filed that away for future reference). Then, exasperatedly, she resorted to mime. Pointed at me, then over at the antelope, then a repeated stabbing gesture with an imaginary knife - but no, she was blushing again, and I realised she was pointing over at Amare, not the dead animal. And that gesture wasn't about stabbing after all, and it wasn't an imaginary _knife_ she was imaginarily holding. I grinned; but Buffy was in no mood for humour. She repeated the gesture and shrugged elaborately... then she pointed at herself, over at Amare, repeated the sexual gesture, and then violently shook her head, raised her hands in rejection and even took a step backwards.  
  
What?  
  
Oh, I understood her meaning clearly enough. It just made me furious. Like I said, Amare's a good guy, and he doesn't deserve the rudeness he gets from some of the other women. And here was a total stranger, a guest in our camp, acting like the very idea of having sex with him filled her with revulsion. And she couldn't just tell him "No thank you" to his face, politely: no, she was announcing it to me and anybody else who happened to be in earshot. I'm afraid I got really angry with Buffy then, and raised my voice and said some pretty nasty things to her. Not that she understood them, though from the stunned and angry look on her face she probably got the gist.  
  
Then I realised I was probably embarrassing Amare myself with my yelling, and I hit myself on the forehead with the heel of my hand for being an idiot. So then I told Buffy, "Whatever. Do what you like" and turned my back and stalked back over to the waiting antelope.


	4. Chapter 4

I rested my head a while against the antelope's cool fur as it hung there, trying to calm down (and also, my forehead hurt where I'd hit it). Then I took a couple of deep breaths, and turned to look for a knife. At which point, I discovered that Amare had, perhaps wisely, made himself scarce during the argument, so all that was for nothing. Oh great.

His tools were neatly laid out on a treestump, however, and I picked up a couple of knives until I found one that fitted my hand well, and tested the blade. It seemed sharp enough, and there were no cracks in the stone, so I took it and walked back to the carcass. As I did I glanced over to find Buffy; she was still standing exactly where I left her, but at this distance I couldn't make out her expression. I felt a pang of guilt, wondered if I should go over and apologise for getting angry with her... but I had work to do. I grabbed a handful of fur in my left hand, and forced the point of the knife into the deer's body, up near the neck.

A small drop of blood came out and smeared the knife, but not much; most of it was already gone. I started cutting downwards towards the belly; it was slow and heavy work, and I had to saw the knifeblade backwards and forwards to get it to cut through the thick layers of skin. I soon had sweat running down my forehead, and paused to wipe it away.

As I did, I was surprised to feel a hand on my wrist, and a woman's voice asking a hesitant question. It was Buffy, of course, and she had a surprisingly meek smile on her face for me as she pointed to the knife, then at herself, then at the antelope. Hmm? Well, if she wanted to... I smiled back, cautiously, and handed her the knife as if it were a peace offering.

Buffy examined it closely for a moment, a dubious look on her face, and brushed her thumb over the edge a few times. Then she took a firm grip on the flint and stepped up to take my place in front of the carcass. Then she turned around and looked at me questioningly, miming a cutting motion and pointing at the deer's belly. I frowned; surely she'd skinned prey before? But I was realising it wasn't safe to assume anything where our guest was concerned. I stepped forward, put my finger at the base of the cut I'd already made, then traced a line down over its belly to between its hind legs. Buffy nodded, then waved me back. I was glad enough of the chance to rest for a moment.

Then she grasped the loose skin in her off-hand to pull it taut... and I stared open-mouthed as she drew the knife straight down in a single clean cut, slicing through fur and hide as easily as if it weren't even there. Just how strong _was_ she? It was all so fast, I didn't even have time to warn her before she'd laid open the antelope's belly too, and its guts came sliding out in a horrible stinking, bloody mess. She made a sound that sounded like "Awk!" and sprang back hastily, and I swear her reflexes were so fast, not a single drop of gore splattered her. In fact, I clapped my hands together in appreciation, and she looked at me in surprise, then grinned. But then she put her hands on her hips and said something to me in an accusatory tone - but she was still grinning - and she pointed at me, the knife, herself, and the guts, then repeated her accusation. Did she think I planned that deliberately? I didn't... but actually, it would have been funny if I had. So I was grinning back as I protested my innocence, and she rolled her eyes at me, and then I couldn't help myself any longer and burst out laughing, and then she was laughing too.

After a while, we'd got control of ourselves again, and Buffy approached the deer once more - but slowly, and with a look on her face that said " _This is really gross_ ". She muttered something to herself as well, and I almost set myself off giggling again as I wondered if she'd actually said, in her own language, "This is really gross". But I took pity on her, and asked for the knife back again. She handed it to me with a look of relief, and I took a deep breath - then regretted it as the stink hit me. I started to kneel down, then hesitated. This was going to be messy, and skin was a lot easier to get clean than leather. I unfastened the top of my wrap and rolled it down around my waist, just as Amare had earlier with his own.

At which point, I remembered Buffy's usual response to nudity and such, and looked round at her in curiosity. Had she turned bright red again? Run away, turned her back? Actually no; her only reaction when I met her eyes was to shake her head and sigh in long-suffering exasperation. Um, I think that was a good thing? Anyway, to work.

I reached in and started pulling out the rest of the antelope's innards, sawing at them with the knife to free them. I couldn't see what I was cutting; I had to go by feel with my arms plunged deep inside the cooling carcass. It wasn't long before my arms were coated with blood and slime, and the front of my chest was liberally splattered too. But then I'd finished, and I stepped back in relief. Buffy was watching me, but she looked a little nauseous: I pulled a face in sympathy and scraped off the worse of the muck from my arms. Then I looked around for some help; where had Amare vanished to? And where was Teshome?

I eventually found them sat by the river throwing stones into the water, and Amare exerted the privilege of his position by telling Teshome to go find Assefe so the two of them could clean out the intestines and prepare them. Teshome grumbled, but did as he was told.

When we got back, Buffy was examining Amare's tools, a look of curiosity on her face. She put them down again hastily, but I adopted a reassuring tone and told her to feel free. She had clan-right, after all; our possessions were hers. Instead, Buffy watched with surprise (and relief) as the two young men picked up the dried animal skin laid under the antelope carcass and picked it up, with the heap of guts lying in the middle of it, and began carrying it off towards the river. She looked like she wanted to ask a question, but then just shrugged. Instead, I picked up the knife we'd been using, then pointed at the assemblage of tools and gestured for her to take one for herself. She raised an eyebrow, then reached out for one of the knives - no testing them one by one like I'd done, but a decisive choice. Then she followed me back to the antelope.

I took my knife, held up the animal's left foreleg, and drew a line with my blade along the inside of the leg from ankle to shoulder, then across the chest to connect with the main cut down the deer's underside. Then I pointed to Buffy and the other foreleg. She looked at me for a moment, then nodded, indicating the leg with her own knife and miming cutting it. I nodded, and we set to work side by side to skin the antelope.

Buffy wasn't as quick or dextrous at this as she'd been at opening the belly. She had the strength, sure enough, but cutting around the legs cleanly took skill and practice as well, and she seemed a little clumsy and unsure of herself. The knife slipped a couple of times, drawing angry and frustrated expostulations out of her. I glanced over; the cuts were a little ragged, but not too bad, and I smiled and said something encouraging, then set back to work. When the front legs were done we started on the rear ones, and Buffy seemed to be getting the hang of things more. She seemed quite proud of herself when the hide of the right hind leg came off cleanly and easily, and I grinned at her.

She smiled back, wiping the perspiration from her forehead with her hand - then grimacing in disgust as she realised her hand was all covered in the antelope's blood, which she'd now transferred to her face. I couldn't help laughing, and after a moment she chuckled rather ruefully as well. Then together we set to work on the last and biggest task, slicing the hide from the animal's body. It was now drawing on to late afternoon and the sun was lower in the sky, but it was still hot, and the work was sweaty and sticky and messy. But the two of us made relatively easy work of it together; somehow we'd seemed to get into a rhythm, matching our actions to each other without a word spoken.

Though Buffy did make one comment, as she peeled back the skin with a loud ripping sound: I think from her wry tone it was a joke, although of course I didn't understand it. But immediately afterwards she seemed to cringe and add something else in an apologetic tone of voice - at least I'm pretty sure one of the words she said was "Sorry", since she'd said it enough by now I was starting to recognise it from context. Was she apologising to me for her joke? Was it in bad taste or something? I wished, once again, that I could understand what she was saying. Senayit's spell couldn't come fast enough.

But the skin was finally removed. It wasn't perfect, a little ragged round the edges, but serviceable. It would make a decent wrap for someone. Maybe Buffy herself; perhaps she'd look less strange in proper clothes?

As we took the hide over to the large treetrunk Amare had designated for scraping, he came over himself and offered to take the carcass over to the campfire so it could be cooked. I accepted gratefully; it would save time. He also, without being asked, passed me one of the antelope's leg bones. As Buffy watched in curiosity, I set it down on a large, flat rock on the ground and went over to Amare's tools to get a few small flakes of flint and a hammerstone. I scored a line on the bone with my knife, pushed one of the flakes into it, then started hammering at it with all my strength.

Sweat got in my eyes and obscured my vision; I brusquely wiped them with the back of my hand and carried on hammering until I was finally rewarded with a loud crack as the bone split. Then I inserted a second flint further up the bone and started hammering again. My arm was getting tired, and as I stopped to rest Buffy squatted down next to me and held out her hand. I didn't hesitate: gratefully, I gave her the hammerstone, stood up and stretched.

Buffy herself seemed a little uncertain, studying the first split I'd made carefully, as if she'd never hammered a bone before and wanted to reassure herself what to do. Then she addresed herself to the stone wedge, gripped the bone firmly in one hand and raised the hammerstone in the other, then brought it down in a single heavy blow. The bone split instantly and cleanly - reminding me once again just how strong she was. I clapped in appreciation, and she smiled at me, obviously pleased.

One more wedge was needed - which Buffy took care of as well as the last - and the bone was split. I mimed tearing it into two, then gave it to Buffy to actually pull apart. She made it look easy. Then I took one half of the split bone and tested the edges where it had cracked - it was suitably sharp. Walking over to the bloody animal hide stretched over the log, I pressed the blade of the scraper against it with both hands and drew it down as smoothly and cleanly as I could. The tattered bits of fat and flesh clinging to the inside of the hide came off, messily, and most of it went onto the ground. Some of it went onto me, of course. I moved the scraper back up and pulled it down in a second sweep next to the first.

At this point I looked up to see Buffy watching me, her pale pinkish-white face looking a little green now instead. Mercilessly, I pointed at the other half of the bone still lying on the ground, at her and at the hide, and quirked an eyebrow. She groaned loudly - which made me grin - but picked it up and joined me. Together we made short work of the hide. The final stage was to carry it over to the tanning pool and dunk it in there to soak overnight. By now I could already anticipate Buffy's reaction to this part of the procedure, and she didn't fail to disappoint. I'm not sure if "Eww ew ew ew ewwww!" meant anything in her language or it was just an expression of disgust, but it sounded funny. I'm half-convinced she knew it too and by now was deliberately playing things up for my benefit.

Finally we were done. I stretched, rolling my head to loosen my neck muscles, and flicked my hands down at the ground to shake off the worst of the blood and gore from them. I should probably have refastened my wrap too at this point, but I was too dirty to want to touch it just yet. Instead I mimed washing to Buffy and gestured toward the river. I'm not sure she understood the gesture, but she followed me when I set off there - and seemed positively enthusiastic when she realised where I was going.

The banks of the river in this region were mostly sticky and soft, but I found Teshome and Assefe sat on one of the drier, sandier stretches. They'd finished cleaning out the animal guts in the water and were now cutting them into shorter lengths and tying off one end of each piece. These made handy containers for cooking the smaller bits of food that couldn't be stuck on a spit to roast. The two of them greeted me cheerfully, although they politely averted their eyes when they saw I was half-naked.

I waded out into the water, then crouched down to wash the worst of the blood from my hands. Then I unfastened my wrap and slid off off my hips, then climbed out of the river again to hang it over a tree-branch for safekeeping. At this point I looked around to see what Buffy was doing.

She was standing next to the river, looking at it with huge longing eyes, holding her red-dripping arms well away from her sides. But she also kept looking sidelong at Teshome and Assefe, awkwardness and embarrassment clearly drawn in her posture. They in turn were clearly trying their best not to stare at her in too-obvious fascination.

While Buffy's odd prudishness and over-refined sensibilities still made me a little impatient, I was getting more used to her ways now; and I did sympathise with her here. It wasn't really fair to the two men either, to expect them not to look if Buffy took her clothes off. I mean, they'd all seen _me_ naked plenty of times (and vice-versa), it was no big deal; but this odd-looking stranger was another matter.

I picked up my wrap again and gestured downriver, where the stream curved around in a bend past some trees.  "I think Buffy and I will go and bathe further down there; there's a nice rock to sunbathe on afterwards."

Assefe pouted and said, "Aww", which made me tilt my head and give him an old-fashioned look - at which he grinned unrepentently. But Teshome, who was older, merely said mildly, "Be careful you don't get eaten by a crocodile."

"There aren't any crocodiles here. You know that."

"Yes, but do the crocodiles?"

At this point Assefe interjected, "I don't think any crocodile would dare try to eat Hiywan anyway. Remember what she did to that hyena?"

I felt my face heat, and looked down at my feet in embarrassment. The time I came back into camp covered in dried blood and dragging the headless corpse of a giant person-sized hyena behind me had already passed into clan legend - and I mean literally. There was a song about me and everything. I cringed every time they sang it.

Of course Teshome and Assefe knew I hated the song, which is exactly why the two of them started singing it right then. I glared at them - they kept on singing through their laughter - but at least it gave me the excuse I needed to stalk off in a huff, beckoning Buffy to follow me.

We made our way through the trees, then out onto the rock that overlooked the river. I heard Buffy say something soft next to me; she sounded pleased and impressed. I looked around, trying to imagine the place through her eyes. It was certainly pretty enough; the rock was a golden honey-coloured stone, contrasting with the deep green of the forest on either side. The river reflected the trees and the sky, deep blue and green; and the ripples as it eddied around the rocks glinted white in the sunlight. I dropped my wrap and ran to the edge of the rock, leaping off into the river below with a giant splash. The shock of the cold water was exhilarating and made me scream in mixed delight and pain. Then I ducked down into the water and started scrubbing at my skin with a handful of sand from the bottom untl I felt sparkling clean, and my flesh tingled with warmth once more.

I'd lost sight of Buffy; she was still somewhere behind the rock doing something or other. But then she stepped into view, poised gracefully on the very brink. The sun, low in the sky, turned her golden hair into something like a flame, so she seemed like an avatar of Tsehay herself. Her pale blood-splattered body glowed pink in the reflected light, as if a fire were kindled inside it. Her _whole_ body, I noticed with a sudden grin. Granted, she was holding one hand protectively in front of her hips, and the other arm was clamped firmly over her chest, but she'd actually taken her clothes off. I hadn't been sure she even could, but clearly so...

At that point she emulated me by jumping in the river with a wild yell that sounded like "YaaaaaheeeeARGHHomygodthatscold!!" My smile turned to a yell of outrage as the impact of her landing created a giant wave that soaked me, plastering my hair to my skull.

"Ooops. Sorry." She said it in her own language, but I knew exactly what she'd said.

"No problem," I replied, with a deceptive smile... then swung my own arm back and around to create a wave that soaked her in turn. Then I added, in the exact same tone she'd used, "Ooops. Sorry."

Buffy's eyes and mouth went wide, three perfect circles as water dripped down her face... then she set her mouth firmly, swung her own arm and splashed me right back. Then added in a meek, harmless little voice, "Sorry."

"I forgive you." I turned my back on her, waded away through the waist-deep water - then swung around, my fingers interlinked to form a double fist, putting my back and shoulders into the movement as I'd been taught, and sweeping my arms around as if I were striking a killing blow to an opponent - except in this case, my weapon was water and my only victim a very wet Buffy.

"Sorry."

She gave me a look then muttered something that sounded, from its tone, very much like, "Oh, it is _on_." Then flipped over so she was floating on her back, and kicked her legs vigorously in my direction creating a whole series of huge waves. Of course, this effort also propelled her away from me, so only the first few actually hit me. It still made me shriek, though.

She eventually paused, just moving her arms slowly to keep herself afloat, and raised her head a little way out of the water. "Sorry."

"It's quite all right". I waded over to where she floated, looked down into her face, then moved my hand almost gently to splash a little bit of water into it. A small gesture... but far more effective since it was precisely targeted. She spluttered, and I murmured the standard apology.

In reply Buffy took a deep breath and flipped over, down below the surface of the river. I was surprised. I squinted down, trying to make out her shape under the water, see what she was doing. I felt her hand touch my ankle briefly, then my other foot; maybe checking where I was standing? And then she burst out of the water with an almighty splash, right in my face, shooting up fast as a gazelle, clearly pushing herself up off the bottom of the river, and I was utterly soaked. I screamed - Buffy said sorry - and I retaliated.

No finesse this time, just a series of splashes with my hands. Buffy replied in kind; we were both giggling and shrieking and occasionally saying "Sorry", but I didn't really have the breath left to keep on repeating it. Buffy, though, seemed to be actually getting faster as I slowed down due to exhaustion; her splashes were coming three to my two. I paused a moment to get my breath back, and she suddenly seemed to explode into action, her arms moving faster than any human's had a right to, sending half the river flying towards me. I sat back in the water with a thump (and another splash), and muttered weakly, "Okay, you win."

She seemed to get my meaning well enough, and stopped too, the slightly faster rising and falling of her chest the only sign of her exertion. She smiled at me and extended her hand. It seemed like a friendly gesture, so I returned the smile and took her hand a little hesitantly. She moved her hand - and mine - up and down a couple of times in what seemed to be a ritual gesture of some kind, then more practically helped me stand upright. My legs quivered, and I knew I'd been in the water long enough.

I scraped off as much water from my body as I could with the heel of my hand, then stretched out on the rock to let the sun dry me. It was nearly down now, but there was still enough daylight left, and I enjoyed the feeling of warmth on my skin. I looked over to see Buffy emerge from the river and copy my actions, and I moved over to make room for her beside me on the rock. She shook her head, however, and took a seat slightly lower down, where the trees cast a shadow over the surface of the stone.

I looked surprised, pointing up in the sky, then drawing my hand along the sharp dividing line that divided sunlight from shadow and raising my eyebrows. She shrugged - then seemed to realise something, and looked a little taken aback, even wistful. She said something to me in her own language, then frowned in thought.

"Buffy..." pointing at herself, "No..." shaking her head; it was another of our words she'd clearly managed to pick up, then "(Unknown word)", and she mimed long fangs in her mouth and biting. I recognised the actions - I'd used them myself earlier - and supplied the word "Nightwalker". She repeated the word herself, then her own; presumably _'vampire'_ was her language's term for nightwalkers. Then she repeated the whole sentence. "Buffy no nightwalker".

"Buffy _is not_ a nightwalker" I corrected her. Clearly she wasn't; I'd seen her in direct sunlight all day. Then I added " _I am_ not a nightwalker". With a little repetition, we managed to get her to understand "I am", "You are" and "She is". I felt quite triumphant.

"I'm not a nightwalker", said Buffy again in our language (yay!). "But- " I recognised that word from context only - "I am (something), and I don't (something something something)." She pointed to herself, then gestured at me. Then she took my hand and stretched out my arm, then put her own arm next to mine. Side-by-side like that, the difference in colour was startling. She pointed to the sky, made a circle with her thumb and finger - " _Sun_. The sun", I told her. Then she pointed at the sun, at my arm, and made a soothing, stroking gesture. Then at her own arm, and hooked her fingers like claws and jabbed at it.

"The sun hurts your skin?" It made some sort of sense - I remember how alarmingly dark red she'd turned out on the open plain as we hunted the antelope; and now I thought about it, it did seem like she'd taken special care to stay in the shade as much as possible when we got back to camp, even more than people normally do. It still didn't make sense _why_ her skin was that colour though; it seemed highly impractical. My suspicion that her people normally lived underground in caves all the time came back to me; hopefully it wouldn't be long before I could ask her directly.

Which reminded me: it was time we got back to camp. In fact we'd really left it too late, because as I was standing up to go and get my wrap the sun finally slipped below the horizon, and the shadows under the trees quickly lengthened. I felt a brief moment of panic which I sternly suppressed. We were only a few minutes' walk from camp, twenty armed warriors were virtually within earshot, and I was a trained fighter myself... but still. Night in the forest or on the savannah was not meant for humans.

I knew it better than most. I'd heard my sister's voice - not Haset, my _other_ sister, the one whose name I rarely used anymore. Calling me to come out and join her, leave the safety of the shelter and walk out into the moonlight. Now, as an adult, I understood what she'd wanted, what danger I'd faced. When Buffy said something in my direction - it sounded like a mildly surprised question - I replied by urging her to hurry up, we had to get back to camp quickly; and the note in my voice made her give a double-take and look around in alarm.

There was no obvious danger, of course. I was letting my fears get the better of me. Buffy found her clothes after a little searching and got dressed quickly and efficiently. It was only at that point that I realised she'd lost her self-consciousness about being naked when our waterfight began, and not given it a moment's thought thereafter. Even so, I politely turned away as she got dressed, despite my fascinated realisation, from the glimpses I did catch, that she actually seemed to wear a second layer of clothing - very abbreviated clothing - underneath the layer I was already familiar with. Why would she do that? What was the point? Yet another thing to ask her when I got chance...

We set off back to camp as soon as Buffy was ready, following the river. It was already full dark before we reached it, and the water was a handy guide to stop us getting lost on the way. But then there was the welcome sound of five dozen people talking, and the glint of the flickering campfire, and the appetising smell of roasting meat. We were home.


	5. Chapter 5

The evening meal went well; after the awkwardness when Buffy first arrived, it seemed that everyone had decided to do their best to be welcoming to her now. It helped a lot that thanks to my lessons, she could at least say, "Hi, I'm Buffy" when people introduced themselves, and she knew "Yes" and "No and "Please" and "Thank you" as well.

There was some confusion when she came to be served first from the antelope she killed, as was her right - but at my suggestion, Ariam performed the ritual with Degu first. He was the one who'd killed the other deer, it turned out, and I nudged Buffy and made sure she was paying attention, so that when it came to be her time to receive the slayer's portion, she'd know more or less what to do. Before she did, Haset rushed over, shy but determined, and pressed into her hands one of the two clay bowls she'd made earlier that day for her to use. Buffy looked taken aback but rather touched, and thanked her gravely. I pulled Haset onto my knee, hugged her and we shared the other bowl between the two of us.

The meal was delicious. I think Buffy enjoyed it too, although she didn't eat very much. That was puzzling - you always eat as much as you can, because tomorrow there might be nothing at all if the Spirits are angry. We'd gone to bed hungry often enough in the last few moons to make this relative abundance doubly welcome. Buffy seemed to have some trouble with the meat, too. Most people just use their hands and teeth to pull it apart, but I was a little surprised to see her take out a knife - she must have kept it from the afternoon, which of course she had every right to do since she was a clan-sister now - and use it to cut up her portion into smaller pieces. She then them ate daintily, one by one. Then she looked around awkwardly, and wiped her greasy fingers on the grass.

Afterwards it was time to put the children to bed. There was the usual drama and parental sternness, and Buffy sat on her tree-stump by the fire looking a little lost and out of it. I contributed my share by getting a torch to light the way to the shelter, and for want of anything better to do my new companion accompanied me. I stood next to the shelter entrance, and gestured for her to hold the curtain open so the torchlight would shine inside. For obvious reasons, we don't allow naked flame into the shelter itself: the roof is piled with dried grasses, the floor covered with dry rushes and animal hides, and our kids sleep in there (as do we).

Buffy watched as the children were shepherded into the hut and settled down there, and the adults made their way out again. She looked at me questioningly, then pointed at herself, at me, a circling gesture to include the whole camp, then pointed into the shelter and mimed putting her head on her hands and sleeping. I nodded. "Yes, that's right".

A look of curiosity on her face, she crouched low and clambered down the short stairway into the shelter herself. Buffy wasn't particularly tall for an adult, but even she had to bend forward to avoid hitting the roof with her head. She looked around, presumably waiting for her eyes to adjust to the dark. Then she knelt down to examine the sleeping furs more closely.

And at that point, she screamed. A yell of genuine horror that caused the children to complain and whimper and some to start crying. And she shot out of the doorway, barged past me without a world of explanation, and ran off into the darkness.

What?

Of course the commotion brought everybody else over to see what was wrong. A few went in to comfort the children, others barraged me with questions. What was wrong? Did something happen to Buffy? Had she gone mad? Reverted to her true demon form? Had I hurt her? I had no answers to their questions, although of course I denied that she had turned into a monster, and protested that I hadn't done anything to her myself.

In the end Belaye reminded me that I was the one responsible for our guest, and ordered me firmly to go and find her, "And make sure she doesn't cause any more disturbances like this". So I set off into the darkness with my torch, while the rest of the clan made their way back to the campfire.

Oh, I knew _exactly_ what the subject of conversation there would be.

I searched fruitlessly through the camp, calling Buffy's name in a loud whisper. In the darkness and torchlight it looked different; far more sinister, all dark shadows and odd shapes. No sign of her. I stood there puzzled, trying to think: where would she go?

The river, perhaps? I made my way over to it. She was not in sight; but there were fresh footprints in the clay along the banks. Not human: or rather, they were presumably the marks of those odd leather bags Buffy wore around her feet.  I followed the trail, instinctively dropping into a hunter's crouch, and around the curve of the river I found her.

It was the splashing I heard first; then I saw the pale shape of her body in the water. She seemed from the noise to be scrubbing vigorously at her arms and torso, and as I got closer I could hear her muttering angrily under her breath.

"Buffy? Are you all right?"

She spun in shock, clearly not having heard me coming, and her expression seemed both furious and at the same time somehow lost. She asked me an angry question; I shrugged and made my voice sound placating and concerned as I replied, "We were worried about you. What's wrong?"

In reply I got an angry stream of invective. Buffy's body language was taut, drawn-in and defensive. She'd seemed to lose her self-concern about nudity earlier that afternoon; but now both arms were clamped tightly around her chest once again. I wasn't sure if she was hiding herself from me or protecting herself from the world.

It was hard to tell, but I don't think she was angry at me specifically. I couldn't imagine why she'd be so furious about the bedding in the shelter either, unless her people had some weird religious taboo or something that we'd broken by mistake. But something had set her off, and I felt frustrated and angry myself that I didn't understand and couldn't help.

She obviously felt so too, because after a while she stopped herself, flung up one hand in the air (she'd started to fling both up, then remembered and caught herself) and gestured for me to turn around and leave her alone. I started to comply, but I was still worried about her out here by herself.

I tried to warn her, somehow, but she looked impatient and angry still, and gestured for me to leave once more. So I fumbled in my pouch and pulled out my knife - it was only a feeble weapon, but I hadn't had time to find a better one. And anyway, I had the torch, which was good enough against nightwalkers at least. I offered it to Buffy; she regarded it for a moment, then seemed to get my meaning. I won a brief, reluctant smile from her at least; then she reached out her hand and plucked a piece of wood from the midstream rock she was leaning against. I'd thought it was just a piece of driftwood, but I suddenly realised the end was sharpened to a lethal point. Presumably by Buffy's own flint knife -- and she'd known exactly how to put her hand on it, without even looking around. She gave me a smug smile, as if to say, "I'm not a newbie, kid".

I conceded the point with a smile of my own, and at her repeated gesture turned to go. She obviously wanted to be alone; and while I didn't know why, I could certainly relate to the general feeling. And clearly she'd be safe enough.

When I got back to the campfire, of course everybody wanted to know what happened. I gave as brief an explanation as I could get away with, deflecting any questions with "I don't know" and "We'll be able to talk to her tomorrow". That changed the subject readily enough, even though "Guardian magic" was the only explanation I or Grandmother Heran were prepared to offer. But the clan had legends about the Guardians of old, of course, and how they protected the People from danger; and as we began telling one of those tales the entire group settled down into familiar story-telling mode. There were songs too - yes, unfortunately, including _'Hiywan and the Hyena'_ , and Nataye said that they'd have to add a new verse called _'Hiywan and the White Stranger'_ , and I completely forgot why I'd ever liked him in my desire for his blood. Or even better, we'd have to make up a song about him and his paintings of buffaloes, and make it as embarrassing as possible.

And then there was laughter, and more singing, and drums, and people cleared a space and started dancing, and others paired off and slipped away into the shadows around the campfire. I thought then of looking for Amare, to make him keep his promise from this afternoon; but he was with his wife and I thought it might be awkward to cut in. Then I thought of Nataye, but I had a sudden attack of shyness, and thought that after teasing him so much about his painting he might not want to go with me now, and I was afraid of him rejecting me if I asked.

So I kind of hung around the group he was in, hoping he'd ask me instead, but he didn't. He was too engrossed in some stupid conversation. In the end Assefe came up to me and made some feeble joke about when Buffy and I went swimming that afternoon, and I guessed he was leading up to asking me to have sex with him. So I cut the conversation short and said yes. We went off behind the Fire Hut, and you know, I enjoyed myself a lot; but I can't help wishing sometimes that dealing with men was as easy as hunting antelope.

Eventually, we all made our way into the shelter and settled down to sleep for the night. I dropped off quickly, tired after my long day of exhaustion, and had a very strange dream. It was full of peculiar shapes and human-seeming but oddly different people all talking to me urgently, and there was some sort of weapon that shone like moonlight but was red like blood, and was very important for some reason I didn't understand; and I needed to find it but it wasn't there anymore, or maybe it wasn't there _yet_ ; and the voices were all asking me more and more desperately to help them...

And then I woke up. It was still pitch-black, the middle of the night. Snores and soft regular breathing echoed all around me. At this point, I have a confession to make - one you've probably already guessed, but at the time it came as a very nasty shock for me to realise.

All this time, I'd completely forgotten about Buffy.

It's true: since I left her by the river and joined the rest of the clan by the campfire, I hadn't given her a moment's thought. I hadn't set eyes on her either. She hadn't come back. She was still out there. Or dead beneath the claws and teeth of some... thing.

I sat up, looked around to try and see if she was in the shelter. Impossible to tell, of course; the narrow chinks of starlight filtering through the holes in the roof were barely enough even to make out the dark forms of my sleeping clanmates, not to distinguish individuals.

I dared raise my voice, whisper her name; that brought no reply except a couple of grumbled, half-asleep complaints. But no reply from her. Very worried now, I got to my feet and struggled toward the door, doing my best (and failing) to avoid stepping on anyone as I made my way there.

I paused at the entrance, remembering my lessons. Nightwalkers couldn't come into the shelter, but they could grab you as soon as you set foot outside. But I was a Guardian now, not an unprotected little girl. My hand reached into the niche by the entrance where I kept my greatest treasure. Nobody else dared to touch it, save Grandmother; it was a thing of power. Qasafi's own knife, its edge glittering black with death.

Nobody in the clan or even the Order of Guardians knew how old it was, or where it came from. In form and texture it seemed to be carved from wood, about as long as my forearm, with a wicked point and a cruel edge. It had the same effect on nightwalkers as wood does, too; pierced through the heart, they exploded instantly into dust. Yet it was not soft like wood, but hard as stone; harder, even, with a keen edge that never blunted or chipped or cracked. When we discussed it, I'd asked Grandmother if it was somehow wood turned into stone, by the power of the Spirits. She'd told me not to be so fanciful, but she hadn't been able to offer any better explanation. But regardless of what it was, its purpose was beyond question. To slay.

Which made it a good thing to have with me when I planned to go out, all alone, into the darkness of a night that teemed with demons and nightwalkers and more mundane but equally dangerous enemies. Clearly I was mad.

But Buffy was probably out there too, and I needed to save her. Or at least _find_ her.


	6. Chapter 6

I slipped through the leather curtain and out into the open air, keeping low by instinct. The moon had risen, and bathed the campsite in an odd black and white light, where I could see shapes but not colours. I moved off slowly, all my senses alert, alive both for danger and for any sign of my missing companion.

And when I found her, it was such an anticlimax that I burst out laughing, at myself and the ridiculousness of the situation. She was sat by the campfire, right in the middle of the camp, staring into the flickering embers, safe and sound.

She heard me, and looked around, then relaxed as she recognised me.

"Oh, it's you. Shouldn't you be asleep?" She mimed resting her head on her hands, pointing at me.

"I was, but I realised I hadn't seen you all night. I was worried."

"That's sweet, but I can take care of... _wait_."

"What? Are you... oh, Spirits!"

"O my God! Finally!"

"I can understand you!" I squealed in delight and rushed over to her; Buffy herself leapt up, and we hugged each other enthusiastically. Then she pulled away, looking a little embarrassed by the show of emotion.

"Uh, sorry about that."

I grinned, "That was the first word of our language you learned!"

"Only because you were being a brat. Um, but actually, Hiywan - Hiywan is your name, right?"

"Yes. And you're Buffy. At least I assume that's your name, though it sounds a little... odd?"  
  
She groaned. "Six thousand years BC and I'm still getting that? You know, one of these days I'd like to go someplace where my name is boring and ordinary and mundane. And people would look at you oddly if you're called 'Bob'. Or 'Jane'."  
  
I giggled. "Bob and Jane are really weird names too."  
  
"Well, it's a start. Partway there. But seriously, Hiywan, I want to apologise for, you know, earlier. I shouldn't have bitten your head off like that. Um, that was a metaphor, I'm not really the head-bitey kind. Just in case you thought so."  
  
"Actually a lot of the others thought you were a demon. I'm glad you're not."  
  
"Really? I guess that explains why they were afraid of me. But no, I'm human... as, um, as human as you are. Which is... anyway.  I was upset, and I took it out on you because you were there, and I shouldn't have."  
  
"But what was the matter?"  
  
"I'd _really_ rather not talk about it. Nothing that was your fault, though. Call it culture shock."  
  
"But you're all right now?"  
  
"Sure. Did some patrolling. Mesolithic African vampires are gross, with the lack of clothes thing, and they were all thin like skeletons and.... Oh, yeah. Not to worry you but there were a couple lurking around in the forest outside the camp. Not anymore. Dusty now, as, uh, a friend of mine would say."  
  
"You met nightwalkers?" My fingers tightened around the haft of my knife involuntarily. "You killed two of them? Yourself?"  
  
"Sure. I'm the Slayer, like I tried to explain earlier but probably didn't get across too well, but that's why..." she broke off and added in a puzzled tone of voice, "Where do your vampires go in the daytime?"  
  
"They dig holes in the ground. Or they live in caves."  
  
"Right. And I guess they don't get much to eat, judging by how thin those two were."  
  
To my own surprise, that hit me harder than even I expected. "They get enough." I was shocked by the hostility in my own voice, and Buffy was clearly taken aback too. After a moment, she asked hesitantly,  
  
"I'm sorry. Who did you lose?"  
  
"My sister."  
  
She put her hand on my shoulder, squeezed it wordlessly. I submitted to the comfort for a moment, then shook it off impatiently.  
  
"Doesn't matter. She'd dead now. Dead twice."  
  
She looked at me in puzzlement, and I lifted the dagger and mimed stabbing. Her eye widened in horror. "You had to stake her yourself?"  
  
I nodded. She sat down heavily. "God. I can't imagine... oh God. I'm sorry."  
  
I felt touched, but annoyed at myself for welcoming the sympathy. "I'm a Guardian. It's my duty."  
  
"Right. Duty, destiny. Believe me, I know how much they can suck. I - wait. What did you call yourself?"  
  
"A Guardian? Isn't that what you are?"  
  
"No, I'm the Slayer. But I've met - oh my God! She _said_ they were around before the Watchers. You're them! She was you! They were..." She saw my blank look. "Uh, there's some sort of connection between an old woman I once met and you guys. Now I say it like that I see it's really not all that important. But, uh, listen. Do you know three men?"  
  
"Huh? I know at least sixty or seventy men, if you include the ones from the other clans I've visited."  
  
"No, dumbass, these are three specific men. They're tall and wear turbans and carry big wooden staffs and... and I really don't know if I should be telling you this."  
  
"Why not? Who are they?"  
  
"Oh God. Forget I said anything. Butterfly wings. I'm really sorry."  
  
"Butterfly wings? What on earth are you talking about?"  
  
"I can't tell you. I really am truly sorry, but if I told you, it might change... everything. Oh God. Now I feel dirty, like it's my fault too."  
  
"What is? Buffy, you're not making any sense!"  
  
"I know. Be thankful you don't understand me. At least if you are who I think you are."  
  
"And who's that?" Since she was already sitting down and this seemed likely to turn into a long conversation, I settled down myself into a comfortable cross-legged position, laying the dagger carefully on my lap.  
  
When Buffy didn't reply to my question, I looked up to see she was staring fixedly at the weapon.  
  
"I've seen that before."  
  
"This knife?" I picked it up, held it out. "Are you sure?"  
  
"You stabbed me with it. Killed some of my friends with it."  
  
"What? I never--"  
  
"No, not you. It was in a dream. You tried to kill me in my dream. I'm sure it was you, but you were different. A lot more scary, and a lot less like a less-annoying version of my little sister."  
  
"Wait. You dreamed about me? I've not heard _that_ one before."  
  
Buffy's tone was dry. "I'm not saying that to get into your pants. You've got the wrong Slayer for that. And also, you people haven't invented pants yet."  
  
"So dream-me was trying to kill you? Why?"  
  
" _You_ tell _me_ , it was you trying to do it... I think. Wait. Can you do me a favour?"  
  
"What?" I watched as Buffy got up, walked around to the other side of the campfire and squatted down again. I could just about see her face across the orange glow of the embers.  
  
"Just say one thing for me now. _'Death is your gift'_. Go on, say it."  
  
"Death is your...?"  
  
"'Gift'. Say it again."  
  
"'Death is your gift.' What does it mean?"  
  
"It is you! I recognise the voice now, completely. You're definitely her. Just... younger, I guess. Hiywan.  The girl's name was Hiywan."  
  
"No, _my_ name _is_ Hiywan."  
  
"Uh, yes. That's right. Hello, Hiywan. It's nice to talk to you properly at last."  
  
"Uh, right. Um, has anybody ever told you you're weird?"  
  
"Frequently. Have you ever painted your face white? And next question: if so, why?"  
  
I blinked at the non-sequitur. "Do you mean Qasafi's ritual markings? A few times, yes."  
  
"It's a religion thing? Figures, I guess. Very scary creepy religion. Uh, no offence."  
  
"Scary and creepy is just what Qasafi is. It's why he's called the Feared One. Don't you worship him, then?"  
  
"Most gods I've met aren't big on the actual _worship_ as such, more on the _bow-down-puny-mortal-or-I-shall-smite-thee_. Puts you off religion."  
  
"And how many gods have you met exactly?"  
  
"Umm... five. Six if you count Willow. Eight if you include Angel and... but let's change the subject now please?"  
  
"All right. So, before we were talking about how you're close personal friends with the Spirits, you were explaining how you had a dream that I was trying to kill you? Yes? Did I miss anything out?"  
  
"I'm sorry, I know all this sounds unbelievable."  
  
I replied in a droll tone, "Not at all. This sort of thing happens to me every day of my life. Really."  
  
"Honestly?"  
  
"No. You're right, it's unbelievable."  
  
"Sorry. But actually, this sort of thing really does happen to me every day of _my_ life. I have a very, very strange life."  
  
"So did you really come here because you dreamed about me killing you? Is this revenge?"  
  
"What? No! And, uh, yes."  
  
"Explain for me?"  
  
"There's a shorter word for that in my language, you know. But yes, I dreamed about you again. Different dream, though, a non-killy one this time. And I'm here for your help, not revenge."  
  
"That's nice. So you came all the way from... wherever because of a dream? About me?"  
  
"My dreams are the type which tend to come true."  
  
I shivered. We had legends about that, and they didn't always end well. But it was probably too late to back out now, so instead I asked, "What do you need me for?"  
  
"I... you know, this is going to sound totally creepy after all, now I think about it. I need your blood. Only a little bit though! And in a non-creepy way! The spell needs _my_ blood too."  
  
"What spell? Why?" And after a moment's thought, "And how much blood?"  
  
"Just a few drops, honest! I, um, I need to repair something. Something I, um, I broke."  
  
I blinked. "You're planning to cast a spell, with blood magic, and everything... because you broke something? You can't just repair it the normal way?"  
  
"Believe me, we've tried. The whole lack-of-magic thing is a big downer, given that we're trying to fix something magical. Which is partly why I came here, that was Will's idea, send me back in time to before the Seed broke so the spell could be cast, listen to me I'm babbling as bad as she does. I'm actually turning into Willow as I sit here."  
  
"You're also making zero sense."  
  
"Wanna hear a secret? I'm not sure I understand it all myself either. But there was a big apocalypse, and I, um, might have had some involvement in it, not on purpose honestly. But I broke the Scythe, and now we need it back. Which is why I'm here."  
  
"The Scythe...?" A memory stirred. "Red like blood, silver like moonlight. The chain that bound me and the blade that freed me..."  
  
"What did you say?"  
  
"Sorry. Something from a dream I had." An alarming thought struck. "Maybe it was one of those dreams you talked about. Like yours."  
  
Buffy blinked. "You dreamed about the Scythe? Then I'm sorry, but that absolutely confirms it. You're one of us. Yay. So, um, you've only seen it in this dream? You don't have it here yourself?"  
  
"I've never seen anything like it before in my life."  
  
"No, I guess not. It is kind of, well, metal, and this is the Stone Age. Maybe your great-great-great-great-granddaughter will make it."  
  
"Um, I don't have any daughters, or whatever. I'm celibate, remember?"  
  
For some reason that remark, innocent as it was, caused Buffy to splutter incoherently for thirty heartbeats, and look at me incredulously. "I think this translation spell or whatever you're using must be faulty."  
  
"Why?"  
  
"Let's really not get into that right now. It's nice to talk to you but I actually am on a deadline here. I need to cast the spell to bring me here in time for me to go back, and we need to get the Scythe fixed first."  
  
"Wait. The spell to _bring_ you here...?"  
  
"Yes, I know." She rolled her eyes long-sufferingly. "I don't understand it either, and I drove Will mad trying to get her to explain. Xander and Dawn didn't help either with quoting that stupid line from _'Doctor Who'_ at me all the time. And giggling, like they understand temporal paradoxes... paradoxises... paradoces... _problems_ better than I do. Which they don't."  
  
"Umm... sense-making? Please?"  
  
"Sorry. Okay, listen. To fix the Scythe, I need some of your blood and some of mine. We mix them together in this..."  
  
She reached inside her wrap - she must have a pouch there, although I wasn't sure where it would fit, her clothes hugged her body so tightly. In her hand was a tiny white bowl. I peered at it closely, and she held it nearer the fire so I could see. It was made of bone, or maybe horn, and beautifully carved. I could tell it was powerful just by looking at it.  
  
"We hold the bowl in our cupped hands, I recite the spell Will taught me, and the blood turns into a crystal. It didn't say, but I've a nasty feeling it will be a glowy red crystal. I take it back with me, touch it to the Scythe, and presto! It's fixed. Or so we hope."  
  
"All right. Let's do it then."  
  
"What, now? Already?" She looked startled.  
  
"You said it was urgent, didn't you?" I cocked my head to one side as a thought struck me. "You're nervous about casting the spell, aren't you? I know the feeling. I'm always like that when Grandmother or Senayit want me to use magic. This Willow you mentioned, is she like your version of Grandmother?"  
  
Buffy chuckled. "Your grandmother, she's the scar _rrrr_ -uh- _care_ ful old lady we met in that hut full of smoke? Willow is... not quite as old as her. Also Jewish and a redhead. But otherwise yes, they're very similar and I'll tell her that as soon as I see her again. "  
  
"With your red glowy crystal."  
  
"Right, with the crystal." she sighed. "Okay, come on then. Uh, it was all right for me to keep this knife, wasn't it? You can have it back when I leave."  
  
"What's ours is yours. Until you leave."  
  
"Really? That's what all that ceremony was about? Then thank you. Also, go you for standing up to the big guy like that, I guess he's your boss, king, chieftain or whatever."  
  
"Thanks. And you're putting off the spell again."  
  
"Clever, insightful people are really annoying at times."  
  
"Thanks. Again. And you're still putting it off."  
  
"Sigh. All right. Hold the bowl for me, in your right hand. You are right handed, aren't you? I remember you're right handed."  
  
I did as she asked, and Buffy gritted her teeth then drew the sharp edge of the flint over the palm of her left hand. A few drops of blood squeezed out and fell into the white bowl, staining it red.  
  
"Your turn now. Do you want to do it, or shall I?" She pointed at my left hand with the flint, and I held my hand over the bowl.  
  
"You do it." The knife hurt, a brief sharp pain, and my blood dripped into the bowl and mingled with Buffy's. She put the knife down and put her own right hand next to mine, interlacing her fingers with my own, so we cupped the bowl between us. Then she muttered some words in a language neither I nor the spirit Senayit had conjured could understand.  
  
"Is that it?"  
  
"That's the spell. Now the blood turns into a crystal...  
  
"Any moment now...  
  
"Uh, soon."  
  
"Are you sure the spell worked?"  
  
"How should I know? I'm not a big magic woman. Maybe we should get your grandmother."  
  
"She'll be still asleep. The blood isn't doing anything, is it?"  
  
"Give it time."  
  
...  
  
"Still blood, not a crystal."  
  
"Shush."  
  
"My arm is getting tired."  
  
Buffy slumped back, unknit her fingers from mine. "It didn't work. I suck at magic."  
  
"Maybe we need to wait longer. Or maybe you said the words wrong. I sometimes do that. Do you want to try again?"  
  
She looked miserable, but nodded. "If you're sure. Your hand will be all over scars if we keep having to try though, I can't do that to you. I heal fast, but you..."  
  
"Well, let's just try it once more, eh?"  
  
...  
  
We did. It still didn't work.  
  
...  
  
"Okay, I am officially a failure. All this way for nothing."  
  
"There must be something wrong with what you're doing. Are you absolutely sure you're saying it right?"  
  
"Yes!" She sounded angry and frustrated. "I practiced it a dozen times. And Willow even wrote the words down for me, look!" She reached inside her clothing again and pulled out a piece of - well, I assume it was leather, but extremely thin, very pale and folded several times. It was covered by odd marks, lines and circles, like someone had doodled on it with a piece of charcoal. I looked at it politely, since it obviously had some significance for Buffy.  
  
"One of those symbols looks like a little smiling face. Look, it has a mouth and two eyes."  
  
Buffy grimaced. "Yes, that's Willow. She put a smiley face at the bottom of the sheet. Big help that is now."  
  
"Well, maybe it's our actions that are wrong. Are you sure we're doing exactly what the spell says we should?"  
  
"I guess so. That part was in my dream, actually; the voice said the words over and over, so I'm not likely to forget them. And since it was in fact _your_ voice talking to me, then maybe you'd know?"

"That's dream me, not me-me. What did dream-me say?"  
  
"It was a poem:  
 _Blood of death from the one who ended it,  
Blood of life from the one who began it,  
Mixed in bone laid over skin united  
Creates the power to forge anew._ "  
  
"Blood, skin and bone? Nice. I suppose that's the bowl, made of bone, and our hands interlinked for the skin united. How do you know it's talking about me and you, though, for the blood? Which one is you?"  
  
"I'm the one who ended it. No confusion there." She sounded bitter. "And you're the one who began it; there's nobody else I can think of who fits the words better."  
  
"So what about this _blood of life, blood of death_ business? What does that mean?"  
  
She shrugged. "Just poetic mystical stuff, I guess. Meaningless."  
  
I frowned at her, and snapped sharply, "Words in prophecies are never meaningless, just because _you_ don't understand the meaning!" Then I clapped my hand over my mouth in shock as I realised I'd scolded her in exactly the same way Grandmother is alway scolding me. Same tone, same sort of words...  
  
Buffy was taken aback too, and looked a little rebellious, then nodded. "All right, cleverclogs, it means something. What does it mean?"  
  
"Maybe you have to be dead before we can use your blood?"  
  
"If that's the prophecy then it officially sucks, and it's no good to me. Someone else can solve it."  
  
"But..."  
  
Buffy's eyes suddenly lit up, "And anyway, that can't be right because technically I've already died. Twice in fact. So that bit applies to me either way."  
  
"Um, right. I'm pretty sure _I've_ never died, so my blood is blood of life, surely?"  
  
"I guess so, but the spell still isn't working. Maybe it's supposed to be symbolic somehow, not literal."  
  
"Maybe it's not real blood, but symbolic blood? Or some other bodily fluid?"  
  
"Okay, first of all, _Ew_ and please do not talk about that sort of thing, I'm still scarred from this afternoon. And secondly: it's always blood. As... someone once said to me. In magic, it's always the blood."  
  
"Blood of death... maybe it means blood from violence. You hit something with a spear to kill it; it bleeds to death and it dies. You cut yourself with a weapon, that's blood of death." I was excited: that fit! "So what's blood of life?"  
  
"You can't make people bleed to _save_ their lives, can you? I mean, people used to think you could in the olden days, but that was all a bunch of... ooh! Unless they mean a blood transfusion! But..." Buffy's expression turned downcast. "I can't see how that would work for the spell."  
  
"Maybe you have to make me bleed without using a weapon, somehow?"  
  
""But how do we... oh. Oh. _Gumph_. Okay, that is totally gross but it actually fits the words, kind of. If you're writing a really gross prophecy."  
  
"What do you mean?  
  
"Well, you know. The blood.... when you..." She struggled for words, clearly thoroughly embarrassed by the subject. "I can't believe I came back through time 8000 years to ask you this, but I think I, um, I think we might need some of your, um, menstrual blood. Sorry."  
  
"My _what_ blood? " The word didn't translate.  
  
"Oh God. You know, surely? You're a woman. You... you know, sometimes bleed without needing to be cut by a weapon...don't you?"  
  
"Oh! You're talking about the blood that comes out of--"  
  
" _Yes!_ Yes, that," she cut me off hastily before I could finish the sentence.

I frowned, tilted my head to consider the idea. "It fits the not needing to be cut part. But I don't get the connection to 'life' beyond that. I mean, the bleeding is an illness, surely?"  
  
"What? No, of course not. It works. It's the whole _menstrual lifeforce woman power blah blah moon_ stuff."  
  
I must have been frowning, because Buffy added hesitantly, "Um, you do know where babies come from, don't you?"  
  
"Huh? Everyone know that. From a woman's womb."  
  
"Yes, but I meant how does the baby get in there in the first place? How do you get pregnant?"  
  
"You worship the spirits and mother Serkalem blesses your womb with fertility, of course."  
  
"Oh boy. Listen, let's just save this dicussion for another time and just trust me on this one, okay?"  
  
"All right. So you need some - what did you call it, 'menstrual' blood from me to mix with your blood from cutting your hand. Right?"  
  
"Right. I don't suppose by some lucky chance you're, _Ican'tbelieveI'maskingthis,_ on your period now?"  
  
"My what? No, I'm not bleeding now, if thats what you mean."  
  
"Damn. It was never going to be that easy. So when are you next on?"  
  
"Huh? How should I know? Hopefully not for a long time. Um, 'hopefully' was probably the wrong word from your point of view, I suppose."  
  
"Do you not keep track? I don't suppose you have calendars here, but surely it's not that hard to keep track. How many days ago was the last time?"  
  
"I can't remember! It was too long ago." At Buffy's scowl, though, I obediently did my best. "It was before we moved to the last camp, definitely. Not too long before, though. I remember I had to miss the last big hunt before we packed up. And we were in the lakeside camp for... about two moons, I think? Maybe three?"  
  
"Three moons.. three _months_? You haven't had a period in three months? Oh damn. Um... I guess that means congratulations are in order?"  
  
"Why? It's nothing I was responsible for myself, though I can't say I'm sorry."  
  
"I really really hope we're talking at cross purposes here." Buffy looked at me and frowned. "You're not showing at all, not that I really know enough about this stuff to know if you would be yet. You're thin as a rake. Seriously, you're thinner than I was that last year in Sunnydale, when Xander was always nagging me to eat more."  
  
"I ate more than you did at dinner. Honestly, Buffy, you should be more grateful for the Spirits' blessing. You'll miss the food you didn't eat today when there isn't any tomorrow."  
  
She looked startled. "Does that happen often?"  
  
"Of course. The hunt fails, the women can't gather enough for everybody, too many people get sick or injured at the same time... you go to bed hungry that night. It's how it works. Isn't it? Isn't it the same where you come from?"  
  
"No, it isn't." She looked faintly sick. "I didn't even think. Guess there's no takeaway pizza or all-night supermarkets round here, huh?"  
  
I didnt know what they were, so I just shook my head. Buffy looked like someone picking at a wound; fascinated and repulsed at the same time.  "So what happens then? You just go out and try harder next day?"  
  
"What else can you do? Of course, sometimes things get really bad." Buffy blinked, like she couldn't imagine worse than I'd already described, so I pressed on.  
  
"If everybody was too tired and weak to go out to gather, or to hunt, then the whole clan would die. So Ariam has to make sure the ones who are best at getting food are well-fed, even if it means the rest get nothing at all that day. I'd hate to be headwoman and have to decide that; it's hard enough _eating_ your dinner when half the people around you have empty bowls and are just watching you. The children's eyes are the worst. Sometimes I go off by myself to eat, just so I can't see them."  
  
Talking about this had put me in a slightly melancholy mood, but when I looked at Buffy she seemed utterly stricken. She was shaking her head numbly. "Mom used to say sometimes if I left food on my plate, 'There's starving children in Africa who'd be grateful for that.' I never took it seriously. God. And this is your life?"  
  
I shrugged - and because she seemed so upset, tried to reassure her. "It's not often that bad, though. Usually only if the rains fail. Most times we have enough for everyone to get _something_ , even if you can't always eat your fill."  
  
"God. This Ariam, the woman who has to decide who eats and who starves. What's she like? Is she..." She waved her hands, searching for words. "Can she live with herself?"  
  
"Um, I suppose so. You met her at dinner; the woman who served you the first meat from the antelope. She's always seemed... normal to me. She's been headwoman since I was too young to remember."  
  
Buffy shook herself all over, like an animal coming out of a pond. "Yikes. Guess when they talk about going on the 'paleolithic diet' they skip the whole part about half the people on it starving to death."  
  
"It's not half. Even if you count the babies born in famine years; yes, _they_ almost all die, but..."  
  
Buffy put her hands over her ears. "Please stop!" I stopped. She looked at me, dismay still shining in her eyes. "Guess I don't need to ask why you're so thin. But you're fit too; for someone without superpowers you're in pretty good shape."  
  
She smiled ruefully as a thought suddenly hit her. "And that might be why... How many periods did you have last year? Roughly, I dont expect you to count every one. Ballpark... not that you have ballparks here so forget that last bit."  
  
It seemed an odd thing to ask, but I racked my memory, trying to think. Eventually I said, "Nine."  
  
"Nine last year? That's not as irregular as I'd expected, so maybe you really are..."  
  
"No, nine. Nine total. In my life."  
  
"Oh. And how old are you?"  
  
"I'm an adult."  
  
"No, in years."  
  
I wasn't sure, but I worked it out the best I could and told her. Buffy looked shocked.  
  
Then she did the maths, and looked even more shocked. And depressed.  
  
"So basically, you have no regular menstrual cycle at all, but it could be _on average_ another month until you're next on?" I shrugged; if she said so. "And it might be even longer. And I need some of your blood to mix with mine for the spell."  
  
She groaned melodramatically, thowing herself back off her tree-stump seat to collapse onto the grass. Concerned, I rushed over, to see her unhurt and staring up into space.  
  
"I hate my life."  
  
"Why?"  
  
"Because, don't you see? I planned to get your blood and go home. And now it seems like I might have to stay here for at least a month minimum, and I didn't pack for the climate, and I've no changes of underwear, no toothbrush, and you haven't invented coffee. Don't even mention the modern toilet facilities, see: lack thereof."  
  
"You're very welcome to stay with us, you know. You're a good hunter."  
  
"Thanks. No really, I don't want to seem ungrateful. But even so..." She groaned again and close her eyes tightly, "I still hate my life."  
  
As she lay there, I noticed something: I could clearly see the red and blue colours of her clothing. The sun was coming up; we'd talked the rest of the night away. I suddenly chuckled.  
  
"What?" Buffy still had her eyes closed.  
  
"The 'facilities' business. I just remembered how, um, shy you are about that sort of thing."  
  
"And...?" she asked suspiciously.  
  
"Just saying," I giggled. "If you need them, you've maybe just got enough time now before..."  
  
"Before what?" Her eyes opened narrowly.

"Before eighty people wake up and all go off to use them _with_ you..."

I collapsed in helpless laughter as she leaped up, horror-struck, and went running off at full speed.


End file.
